


A Dead Soul

by VoteForNuke



Series: 2020 MGS Summer Games [13]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, depictions of gore, pre-MGS1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoteForNuke/pseuds/VoteForNuke
Summary: Naomi enters the temple of Mars.
Series: 2020 MGS Summer Games [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884223
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Dead Soul

Fluorescent lights flipped on like a flash of lightning. Their dull drone joined the symphony of electronic, metallic, pneumatic, mechanical song, punctuated by the  _ click click click  _ of her heels. Naomi turned to the charts, the ever-updating computer screens, text rolling by like a stream of consciousness. She focused on the words, pretending they were anything but meaningless blurs through her tears.

_ Pull it together, Naomi _ , she scolded. There was work to be done. So much work. Dr. Clark had sent her down here with specific instruction. Right. Naomi nodded to herself, picking up the clipboard and drawing in a deep breath. Behind her, the ventilator hissed. The sound scraped through her, the ache in her throat tightening horribly. Tears spilled down her cheeks when she squeezed her eyes shut.  _ Pull it together, you’re a professional.  _

It was just a dead body. A pile of biological material, bones and meat and blood. No, she couldn’t say that. How awful–-what a horrible sister she was to say that. 

Frank was so much more than meat. He’d been a person, once. A vibrant soul; a kind, caring soul. He had saved her life, no,  _ made  _ her life. Without him, she wouldn’t be here, on this earth or in this room. Standing in this room, ready to make him a puppet. Ready to strip the human from his bones and fit him with plates of metal and wires. Turn him from a soldier to a weapon, unthinking, unquestioning. No, that wasn’t right. Frank was...he was gone. He was dead. His body was here, and like feral dogs, she and her team would tear at his carcass. 

Was this betrayal? Was this sin? To take the body of the man who raised her, the man who wrote her silly birthday cards and apology notes when he couldn’t make her events, and bastardize it, was it unspeakable? 

Naomi turned sharply on her heel. Suddenly, she felt like she was in the temple of an ancient god. She was in the presence of Mars, and the body before her was the altar. The sacrifice. 

It seemed unreal. Unreal that this was a man, let alone Frank. The lower half of his body was missing, only a sudden rise of his ribcage under the sterile sheets. His ribcage, sunken on one side from cracked bones that pressed sharply against his ashen skin. His arms were gone above the elbows, wrapped in bandages and gauze. They were too symmetrical to have been from the blast, an attempt at tightening up the foundation of their work. 

His face...Naomi stepped closer, clipboard pressed to her chest like a shield. One eye socket was sunken under all the sickly bruises, the dry and gaping cuts. His skin looked thick and rubbery, like a halloween decoration. His jaw was forced open for the tube, his pale hair chopped away for the electrodes and sensors, a rainbow of wires spilling all around him. Despite it, she couldn’t help but feel that he looked peaceful. He was in an endless sleep, one without nightmares. A true peace, one he never really had in life, no matter how he lied to her.

“Oh, Frankie…” She whispered, reaching out one hand to cup the artificially warmed cheek. A tear spilled down her cheek, and she didn’t fight it. She bowed her head, letting the machines sing their praises to the gods of this cruel ritual. With a deep breath, she straightened. 

She’d find the man who did this. She’d hunt him down and pull the pulse from his heart with her bare hands, if she had to. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
